What if?
by Marionette
Summary: [Chapter 3] In first year, Draco offered Harry his hand in friendship. Now, years later Ron is curious as to what may have been. The cliche done in Ron's POV. Please r&r.
1. Sleeplessness

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.  
  
"Ron."  
  
I groaned, blinking sleepily as I briefly wondered why Harry was whispering to me in the middle of the night. I rolled on to my side so that my back faced him, and put a pillow over my head. Couldn't he see that it was still night time?  
  
"Ro-on."  
  
I flipped onto my back and brought myself into a sitting position. Picking up my pillow, I opened my curtains and threw it in the general direction of his bed. It was a rare occasion that he slept with his curtains closed. Lazily, I plopped back onto my bed, pillowless, but happy.  
  
"Ouch."  
  
He hurled my pillow back at me, hitting me square in the face. Sighing in defeat, I picked myself off the bed and moved the terribly long five feet to the one next to me. "You called?"  
  
I sat on the edge of his bed and he propped himself up, and for a few moments we were silent. This is usually what we did after he had a nightmare, but I hadn't heard him thrashing in his sleep. Something was bothering him. "Do you remember that time in first year, when Malfoy offered me his friendship?"  
  
My jaw dropped. I tried to think of rational reasons why Harry woke me up to discuss Malfoy. "You're telling me that at three in the morning, you decided to wake me up to have a jolly old chat about Malfoy?"  
  
He gave me a cheeky grin. "Yup."  
  
"You're a monster." I spat, trying to hold contempt in my voice. He's so hard to get mad at.  
  
Shrugging thoughtfully, he seemed to pass over that idea. "But, think about it. If I'd taken him up on that offer, what kind of person would I be? Would I still be friends with you?"  
  
That was actually an interesting query. I'd have to remember to think about it when I was half-awake. "Well, Harry, I don't know the answer to your questions, but I do know that Gryffindor Tower wouldn't be the same."  
  
He seemed flattered. "Really?"  
  
"Yeah, the people in it would actually sleep." I turned, grabbing my pillow, and stumbled back to my bed, but not before catching the amused grin on his face.  
  
As I laid down to fall back to sleep (mercifully), I began to wonder about Harry's idea. I checked on him before closing my curtains, seeing his eyes closed, sleeping peacefully. I swear, no one can fall asleep faster than Harry Potter. If he weren't famous already, he'd probably known world wide as the only wizard who can fall asleep in 2.5 seconds.  
  
The whole notion that Harry would ever become something as dreadful as Malfoy seemed preposterous, but he had once admitted that the Sorting Hat had wanted to put him in Slytherin. I frowned. It was a very unnerving idea, all in all. Doing my best to push it out of my head, I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep. But that's the thing about sleep, isn't it? Whenever you really need to forget about something and just.sleep, it won't let you. `  
  
So I laid awake. And wondered about Harry, Draco, and the whole mess in first year.  
  
That is, until I fell asleep. Then I dreamed about Harry, Draco, and the whole mess in first year.  
  
~  
  
I looked around, blinking as I realized that I was on the Hogwarts Express, littered in mounds of candy. On my lap was a rat, which I immediately recognized to be Peter Pettigrew, or Scabbers, at the time. My first though was to point my wand and blow that sucker all the way black to his bloody master, but then realized something. When was the last time this scenario had played out?  
  
Why, first year of course.  
  
I looked at the boy across to me, and eleven year old Harry Potter. He, too, was happily eating his candy. It was odd, seeing him five years younger than what I was used to. I picked up the rat from my lap and placed him on the seat next to me. I didn't want that foul thing touching my robes. We were nearing a halt when the door to the compartment flew open.  
  
Malfoy looked funny as an eleven year old. His hair was styled completely differently, and though he still had a snotty air, he didn't not have the powerful conduct over a room that he now carried with him. He was merely a little boy. I resisted the urge to laugh.  
  
We went through the whole "offering friendship" ordeal, and I watch it replay before my eyes. It was rather odd, reliving a memory such as this, and for a moment I expected Harry to reply in the curt manner in which was the norm. However, I remembered at the last moment Harry's question.  
  
What if he'd taken his hand in friendship?  
  
I watched in horror as Harry smiled and took Malfoy's hand, shaking it generously. Malfoy was grinning-GRINNING. "Are we going to leave this Weasel here?"  
  
Harry looked uncertain, his face screwing up like he was about to say "Piss off, Malfoy", but then he shrugged. "Well, I'd rather not just leave him all alone.unless it's alright with you, Ron." His boyish face looked hopeful, and I knew that I had what I had to say.  
  
I managed a weak smile. "Fine with me, Harry. It was nice meeting you."  
  
Malfoy gave an arrogant smirk in my direction, before take Harry's arm and dragging him away. It was rather weird, losing your best friend that you'd supposedly barely known.  
  
Reality sunk in. I wasn't going into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with a friend this time. Suddenly, I'd changed the course of my life. Rather odd feeling, actually.  
  
A/N: Heh.I know this has been done a million times, but this fic was really well received on fictionalley.org, so I figured I'd give it a whirl here. I don't know what made me do it in Ron's POV, but I figured that since Harry's his best friend, wouldn't it have a phenomenal affect on him as well? Well, don't forget to r&r! 


	2. A Second Sorting

I walked slowly down the familiar path to the Great Hall, briefly viewing it for the millionth time as if it were the first. The ceiling bore the resemblance of the night sky, and as I looked at it, I heard Hermione explain to everyone how it was only bewitched. I opened my mouth to tell her I already knew that, and then shut it quickly. She would never believe me.  
  
  
  
Time passed at an agonizing speed as I pretended I had never seen this place before. My right side ached with an odd empty feeling without Harry standing beside me. It was weird, I had never felt like this when we had been separated before, but then again, I always knew he'd be there later. I snuck a glance to where he was standing next to Malfoy; it was hard to believe that he could smile and laugh in such bad company.  
  
  
  
McGonagall stepped forward and explained the sorting ceremony. As she called the first name, I played guessing games to see if I remembered exactly who went in which house. Malfoy was called, and I didn't bother guessing, I already knew. As he trotted off to Slytherin table, I made my way over to Harry. A little voice whispered in the back of my head, 'You wanted to know what it would be like...stop interfering.' I was about to tell myself to shut up, but decided I better save what was left of my sanity. "Hello, Harry."  
  
  
  
He turned his head to the right and smiled. "Oh, hello, Ron." His manner was polite, but he appeared to be slightly uncomfortable. "Um...what house do you suppose you'll be sorted into?" Small talk...Malfoy had been talking about the fact that I was poor. It had never mattered to Harry before.  
  
  
  
It took all my might not to shout, "GRYFFINDOR, YOU BLOODY LOON! AND YOU BETTER BE THERE WITH ME!" Instead, I gave him a fake grin. "Enough formalities. What was Malfoy telling you about my family?"  
  
  
  
Coloring, he turned back toward the ceremony. "Nothing at all."  
  
  
  
I glared in Malfoy's direction, but he was chatting with Crabbe. Bringing my eyes to meet Harry's, I spoke. "Don't lie to me, Harry. He said something. I think I ought to clear it up, since he probably fibbed."  
  
  
  
"Harry Potter!" McGonagall's voice echoed in the perfect silence that came after mentioning his name. I scowled at her, as Harry practically ran away from me. However, I did not turn away. My eyes became glued to Harry and the Sorting Hat on his head. One question began to nag me.  
  
  
  
Would he be sorted into Gryffindor or Slytherin?  
  
  
  
Of course, the hopeful naive side spoke up first. 'Why, Gryffindor, of course!' it said happily, 'Just because he's hanging out with Malfoy doesn't mean he's a horrible person! You've been his best friend for five years, you know that!'  
  
  
  
Yet my other cynical pessimistic half boomed louder. 'Yes, but those five years don't count anymore. Harry has time before he grows into that person. And if he's been so easily manipulated, maybe he's not going to get the chance to be anything but a Malfoy-clone.'  
  
  
  
While my multiple personalities fought, Harry sat. And sat. And sat. Minutes had passed since he'd first been called. The teachers were beginning to cast worrisome glances at Harry and then at the Hat. Finally, after a long pause, the hat croaked out "Slytherin..." It was terribly frightening, the way it sounded so completely unsure.  
  
  
  
The others students went by quickly, but everyone was considering the Hat's decision. Hermione looked like she'd been smacked; why was HARRY POTTER going to the very house that created the murderer of his parents?  
  
  
  
My name was called toward the end of the Ceremony, and I walked to the stool looking completely relaxed. And I was. I was still the same person after five years, maybe even more courageous. I sat down on the stool, and McGonagall placed the hat on my head. "You know something the others don't. What is everyone doing here again?" the voice whispered into my ear.  
  
  
  
"I'm rewritting destiny, please just place me in my house." I answered.  
  
  
  
"Aren't you grumpy. Most people are exactly the same, but Potter.I must say, he's changed. He didn't ask to be placed anywhere but Slytherin. It was unnerving."  
  
"Well, that's peachy, isn't it? Listen, I'm not in the best of moods; I've discovered that playing God isn't that fun, please just place. me. in. my. house."  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
"Thank you."  
  
I stepped lightly off the stool and down to the Gryffindor table. Honestly, I wouldn't have minded talking to the hat, but without Harry I felt like I was going crazy. I didn't want to start talking to hats to prove my insanity.  
  
I took the open seat next to Hermione, and smiled at her. "You're going to be my friend."  
  
She gave me an indignant look. "What makes you so sure?"  
  
Smirking, I turned back to the ceremony. "I can tell the future."  
  
It wasn't a total lie.  
  
  
  
A/N: Not many people reviewed this; I only posted the second chapter because dog-boy made me smile. Haha. I hope you enjoy it; I really do like writing this series. Please r&r.  
  
Disclaimer: Unfortunatley, I don't own Harry Potter or the characters. Miss JK getthefreakinbookoutalready Rowling does. I do own this cliché done in Ron's POV. So booyah! 


	3. The Remembrall Incident

"Hey, look! Neville's got a Remembrall!"  
  
A few heads swung in Neville's direction as he brought a glass ball out of a package. "I've read about those!" Hermione piped up immediately, feeling the need to educate us on the subject. I quickly tuned out her mindless prattle and stared at my empty plate. It was white. I kept staring. It was still white.  
  
I felt a poke in my side. Turning away from ever interesting plate, I faced Hermione to see her wearing a look of concern.. It took me a moment to realize her speech was over and everyone was eating again. As I had predicted, she and I had formed a friendship. It was now that I didn't have Harry that I was beginning to see how amazing she was, eleven years old or not. "You okay?"  
  
"No, you see, I'm supposed to be Harry Potter's best friend. I'm having trouble coping with the fact that he's Malfoy's best friend instead, and at times I want to beat him into a pulp because even if I did sort of wonder what it'd be like I never meant for this to happen!"  
  
Is that what I said?  
  
  
  
Nope.  
  
"I'm fine, Herm. Except." I suddenly had the urge to tell her everything, and opened my mouth with her looking at me expectantly. Realizing what I was about to do, I quickly thought of something to say. "Neville."  
  
She quirked an eyebrow. "Neville?"  
  
"He's so pathetic. I mean, look at him. Why is he even in Gryffindor? He shouldn't be here." I couldn't believe what I had just said. Had those words come from my mouth? I hadn't meant them, and when I looked up, I was assaulted with the staring faces of my classmates. I must have said it much louder than intended. Neville was even staring at me, pain evidently written across his face.  
  
"I'm.I'm sorry you feel that way, Ron." Then gathering his Remembrall, he left the table.  
  
I stood slowly, looking from face to face and noticing that I had attracted attention from other houses as well. I caught Harry and Malfoy snickering softly with each other at the Slytherin table. Ignoring the jab of pain I felt from that, I left the hall. I knew the Gryffindors would not talk to me the rest of the day, and I couldn't really blame them.  
  
  
  
Professor Snape was my hero.  
  
Everyone in the whole school treated Harry a little different from the way I was used to. The other houses feared him a bit more, and Slytherins downright worshipped him. He was no longer Harry Potter the Golden Boy to them, but Harry Potter, the famous wizard who gave them a reason to brag. Yet through it all, Professor Snape found excuses to destest Harry.  
  
It was wonderful, maybe even magnificent to see that Snape's feelings toward Harry had changed little to none. Sure, his grades were better, but that's because he paired with Malfoy and Snape would have preferred to die then give his favorite student a bad mark. It was a nice vacation to have something I was used to in my new life, even if it was hostility. If there was one thing Snape could do right, it was hold a grudge.  
  
But that day I wasn't particularly worried about Potions. Hermione still paired with me, even if she did refuse to talk. Every time I caught her eye she gave me an unusually cold glance. When Snape turned his back, I took a spare bit of parchment out and wrote "I'm sorry" on it. Casually, I slipped it to her. She looked down at it, then back at me, and picked up her quill. The next thing I knew, the parchment was before me, with a bit of neat scrawl on it.  
  
"I'm not the one you should be saying that to."  
  
And she was right. So after class I hung around the dungeons for a few minutes (Neville had blown up his potion and had to clean it up) for him to come out. When he stepped out of the doorway and saw me, he glared. "What do you want?"  
  
I shifted on my feet. "I'm sorry, Neville. I was in a really bad mood this morning and sort of blamed it on you. I didn't mean those things I said."  
  
He nodded, and gave me a sad smile. "I figured you didn't." He paused, "Hey, don't we have our first flying lesson next?"  
  
I grinned. "Yup. Let's go."  
  
We walked there together, slightly behind everyone else. I kept apologizing for my behavior, and he was dismissing it good-naturedly, even though I could tell it still hurt quite a bit. Madam Hooch soon stepped out of the Castle and strode over to us, barking instructions. I stepped to the left of my broom and did everything she said easily. I had become a pretty good flyer over the years; I had none of Harry's natural grace on a broom, but I was far from bad.  
  
Neville, on the other hand.  
  
"Oh, it's a broken wrist. All right, I have to take Mr. Longbottom to the hospital wing. Anyone who gets on a broomstick will find themselves out of Hogwarts faster then you can say 'quidditch'." I listened to Madam Hooch, but my eyes were on someone else.  
  
Draco Malfoy had Neville's Remembrall.  
  
A thought occurred to me, Would Harry save it again? Would he dare? Was he still Harry, deep down? A chorus of laughs interrupted my thoughts as I watched Malfoy mount his broom. "Why don't I leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find? How about up a tree?"  
  
I held my breath.  
  
"Don't, Draco."  
  
A little inner me did a victory dance to that awful Muggle music Dad was always listening to. I tried to suppress the smile that was threatening to break out across my face because somewhere, deep down, he was still the Harry I had known.  
  
"Why should I, Harry?" Malfoy's voice was eerily even, like he couldn't believe Harry spoke against him.  
  
"Well, it's not yours. He can't help it he's a squib."  
  
Or maybe he wasn't. The Harry I'd been friends with would never, ever have said something so hurtful. Malfoy had been dirtying his mind with filth.  
  
Malfoy half smiled, half grimaced at Harry, and then placed the Remembrall on the ground. Many of the Gryffindor's sighed in relief, but I knew better. I looked suspiciously over at him, wondering what he was about to do. Then, as if he were going to walk away, he lifted his foot. It was too late until anyone caught on to what he was really going to do.  
  
He crushed the Remembrall with his foot, giving Harry a self-satisfied smirk. "Oops."  
  
I don't know why, but I rushed over and knelt by the pieces. Slowly, I began picking them up, when I heard another voice behind me. "What happened here?" Madam Hooch demanded, watching me handle the broken shards of glass.  
  
"Weasley did it, Madam Hooch! He and Longbottom had a fight this morning, and I guess he wanted to pay him back!" Malfoy said as soon as she had stopped speaking, "Didn't he do it, Harry?"  
  
The entire class turned to look at Harry. I stared at him hopefully.  
  
He eyes never reached mine. "Yes." 


End file.
